by Freya Barker
Those words carry so much more weight than just their face value. With that one line, she seemed to have wiped away any lingering doubts about whether I'm good enough for her. I'm fucking great for her and I will prove it every day for as long as she'll let me.
When I emptied the tub, I saw the strands of hair she'd left on the edge of the bath and I was hit with a sharp pain. Her hair—her pride—her sacrifice, which seems insignificant in the grand scope of things, but is a poignant, painful loss for Kim. I can clean her when she's been ill, hold her when she feels weak, but that is one thing I can't give her relief for. Back in the bedroom, she'd rolled on her side with her knees drawn up, her head resting right on the edge of the mattress. I crawled in behind her and loosely held her until I heard her breathing even out. When Boo stuck his head around the door after greeting Neil when he returned, all I had to do was pat the bed and the big dog clambered up. He inched closer until his body was snugly against Kim's back and I left them resting together.
"We filled him in. He was as shocked as we were, finding out the Agave cartel was involved. Oil doesn't fall under their usual 'business' interests. Took us all for a loop." Caleb sits back and takes a sip of his coffee before turning to his wife. "How do you feel about staying in town for another night? I'll call and see if Beth can keep the 'kids' a bit longer, but since we're meeting with Gomez tomorrow for a final brief we may as well hang around."
"I'll stick around with you, but I'll call Beth—if I'm lucky, Mattias is still up, I just want to hear his voice," she says, standing up from the table and taking her phone into the kitchen.
The moment she disappears I turn to Neil. "Did you pick one up?"
"Yup. Are you sure about this?" he says, grabbing a shopping bag from the sideboard.
"Sure about what?" Caleb wants to know, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table.
"Ask him," Neil motions to me.
"Well?"
When Katie walks into the room five minutes later, she stops in her tracks, taking in the scene and claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh Mal..."
It's not like I had to think about it for very long. When the idea first popped into my head this morning, my first instinct was to fight the impulse, but it seemed like such a small thing to do. A silent vow of support and commitment. Kim would probably be one of the few to understand it's full significance. Caleb and Katie as well, but the truth is, I hadn't felt the need to carry my heritage like a shield for a while now. And whatever the size of the remaining chip on my shoulder, it was easy to push off.
Katie walks over with tears streaming down her face and runs her hand over my remaining hair. Caleb's reaction when Neil had pulled the necessary tools from the bag had been similar shock, but without the tears. When I put the scissors in his hand and asked him to do the honors, he didn't hesitate to step behind me and make the cut.
Katie eyes her husband who is holding out my hair, still tied together in his fist. It's long enough to be used for making a wig.
"You want to help shave the rest?" I ask her as I point to the clippers Neil is holding.
"Hell, yes." She smiles through her tears as she takes them from him.
Kim
I wake up to an unfamiliar distant buzz, before a wave of sudden nausea has me reach for the bucket. My sudden movement sets Boo, who apparently cuddled on the bed beside me, scrambling off the bed. False alarm. I slowly roll on my back and breathe through my nose, trying to will my stomach to settle. With the door open a crack after Boo toddles off, I can hear the deep hum of voices and the occasional laugh. Sounds like Katie and Caleb are here and I wish I was down there with them, visiting.
With a desperate need to pee, I gingerly sit up, trying not to make any sudden moves. I can't help but notice when I finally stand beside the bed, that I left a little nest of hair curled on my pillow. Well shit. Snatching up the clump, I dump it in the wastebasket, relieve myself and run a quick washcloth over my face. I quickly brush my teeth and pull on a pair of yoga pants hanging on the back of the door before returning to the bedroom where I find Mal sitting on the edge of the bed. It takes me a minute to register something is significantly different, and another to pinpoint what it is. As my hand reaches out to the doorpost to keep me up, I'm thinking how funny it is that a change that significant takes a while to compute. His head is bald. So bald, it's shiny. His beautiful hair is all gone.
"Don't worry, I still have it, it's going to Beautiful Lengths campaign. Katie is printing off the donation form." His voice sounds gruff as he holds out his hand.
I automatically start walking toward him, slipping easily between his legs as he holds on to my hips. Reaching out, I run my hand over the smooth warm skin of his head, smiling, before I bend down and press a kiss on his crown. His arms slide around, pull me tight, and his head presses into my belly. We don't need words—I recognize his gift and he feels its importance to me.
Boo nudges his big head, trying to insert himself between us, letting us know he has needs too.
"All right big guy. You want to go out?"
His uncoordinated tail starts whacking me in the leg in reaction to Mal's voice. Grabbing my hand he walks me out of the bedroom and downstairs, Boo trailing us excitedly.
Another surprise waits in the dining room, where the rest of them are gathered around the table. It's not just Mal, but both Caleb who normally has pretty close-cropped hair, and Neil, whose 'do' is more like a surfer, who each now sport a shiny globe as well. I can't help it, I burst out laughing and crying at the same time. Katie walks up to me to give me a hug.
"You know I tried to bribe Neil to shave my head too, but Caleb threatened to hack off his balls with a butter knife," she semi-whispers in my ear. "The butter knife won."
"You know?" I tell them with a watery smile, "You guys make everything so much better. Thank you. I'm blessed and I know it."
-
"Last one, babe."
Mal is spreading some aloe gel on the skin of my neck and upper chest with gentle fingers. The skin there is almost purple and hot to the touch from the treatments. Yesterday was my last radiation and chemo will be done after today. I was supposed to be done last week, but the blood counts were a little on the low side.
Today will be the last one. We've been in Durango now for a little over five weeks and in that time I've become almost unrecognizable. My hair is officially gone—the last remaining strands were shaved off lovingly by Mal—my face looks hideously swollen from the chemo cocktail and the rest of my body is pasty and quite a bit slimmer. Mal says he hopes I'll put it back on when I point out the weight loss. He hadn't even really registered the changes in my body and face.
His bald head is sporting a little dusting of fuzz now and when he tried to get me to shave it smooth again a few days ago, I refused.
"Mine will start growing back soon as well—at least I hope it will—and I really like running my fingers through yours"
"You do, do you?" he growled in my ear, which spurned on a whole other reason for me wanting him to keep the slight stubble. Our hunger for the other hadn't really lessened. It was just that it seemed to feed from a need to be as close as two humans could possibly get, instead of lust-fueled passionate coupling. It often started with Mal doing incredible things with his mouth between my legs.
-
"Don't." His low voice threatens as he looks at me from under his heavy brow, pulling me from my thoughts. "I can hear you thinking and we need to get going. Bags are packed and in the truck and we'll head straight home after that."
Neil had stuck around with us, even after it was clear I was no longer in any danger, and I'd been happy for it. Excited even, to see the initial palpable tension between the two men transform into a solid friendship. I'd grown to love Neil too. In a purely platonic way of course, even though I can't deny the man has a serious hot and flirty vibe going on. No, he feels more like a loving brother to me, someone who is not afraid to show he cares and will always look out for those he cares abo
ut
Still, can't wait to get home. My own bed, my own kitchen. My own mesa. Oh, and my Boo. Katie brought him over for a visit last week and I bawled for the first hour. Poor dog was beside himself. I just don't know how I'll manage not having Mal around twenty-four/seven. I mean we've shared more in the last few months than many do in a lifetime but still... I'm sure he can't wait to settle down in a normal routine again—in his own place again. A normal routine, which for me right now is a little vague. I'm sure I'll need some time to get my strength back up but sitting at home twiddling my thumbs is going to get old soon. I'll want to get back on my feet, especially since my savings have taken a hit, being without regular income now for well over two months. There is also my mother in Grand Junction, whom I’d like to go see soon. Britta has kept us updated on her progress, which has been quite steady since the doctors slowly allowed her to wake up. She’d likely be spending a long time in rehab, trying to strengthen her spine and regain as much of her mobility as possible. I feel a bit guilty for not having gone to see her, but I was busy fighting my own fight.
We are meeting Kerry at the hospital. She's been adamant about coming so she could celebrate the final leg of this journey with me. I'm excited to see her, but at the same time a little anxious at her response to my appearance. It's something I haven't really cared about while here. The time has felt like living in a bubble, but going back home is a different matter. I'm not sure I can deal with all the questions and curious glances once I'm ready to resume my life.
When Mal pulls the truck into the hospital parking lot, he turns off the ignition and swings around to face me. "So quiet, Nizhóní. And yet I can still hear those wheels turning," he says, running his widespread fingers down my face, as I've come to experience as his signature show of affection.
"Why do you do that? Stroke down my face? Don't get me wrong," I hurry to add when he threatens to pull away his hand. "I really enjoy it—makes me feel...treasured. I'm just curious."
He lifts his hand back and does it again. "My sister used to do that to me. Each time I was angry or sad, or she thought I was frowning, she would run her fingers over my face. Used to drive me nuts. I was convinced she was teasing, but after she died, I...I found I missed it. Missed what it meant—that she could see me. Me. She always did, even when I was a bad-tempered fledgling adolescent, she never lost sight of who I was to her. Took me a while to understand."
His smile is soft and although the pain of his loss is still there, in his eyes, he talks about her with more ease. Allowing himself the good memories along with the bad.
"You see me," I realize.
"Always have, Kimeo."
Warmed with the knowledge, I let him lead me from the truck to the lobby of the hospital where I see Kerry already waiting, her hands clasped in front of her. The moment she sees me through the sliding doors she rushes to meet me, her hug so strong it takes my breath away.
"Let's get this bitch's ass kicked," she says, discreetly wiping at her eyes, but in a voice strong with conviction before she tucks my arm in hers and we follow Mal down the hallway.
Mal
"Is she okay?"
Kim blessedly fell asleep about an hour into her treatment and Chrissy, who's been a constant for her, sent Kerry and I to grab a coffee and a bite. We're in the coffee shop in the lobby and Kerry's eyes look troubled.
"She will be. She's been weakened a lot by the aggressive simultaneous protocol but that's just her body—her will is strong. I think what's mostly troubling her now, other than the obvious, is how she'll readjust once she gets back home. She'll probably need something to put her teeth into—she doesn't strike me as someone who does well sitting still."
Kerry tilts her head to the side as she regards me, her eyes every so often trailing over my now hairless head. "You love her."
I look at her, lifting an eyebrow. "You're her friend and were witness to my less than stellar start with her, which is why I won't tell you it's none of your business, but yes, I do. "
The small smile tugging at her mouth gives me another indication of her feistiness. Not that I doubted that, after she about took my head off the first time we met. "So are you gonna do something about it?" she challenges.
"You're pushing, Kerry, but I'll give you this one too because I know you're only looking out for her. I'm planning to let her get settled into her life, to let her get her feet back under her and then when the time is right, yes, I will 'do something about it.' "
"You're an idiot, Malachi Whitetail." She totally surprises me with that and it must show, because she starts laughing when she sees my expression. "Well, you are. I've been with the two of you for a little over an hour now and I can see from the wistful, longing glances she sends you that she doesn't want to do any settling unless it has you in it. The girl is as eager as she is anxious about the prospect of 'getting her life back.' I'm thinking she doesn't want it unless it has you permanently cemented in it."
I lean back in my chair, considering her words. Is that true? Is the anxiety I've felt coming off her these last few days about us? That would constitute a change of plans—a welcome one if you ask me.
Kerry gets up from the table. "Just hitting the ladies' before we head back." She leans down as she passes me, surprising me with a kiss on my head. "You did that for her. You are officially and completely forgiven for being a douche in the beginning." Without looking at me, she struts off, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaving me chuckling in my coffee. Feisty all right.
"Did you bring the bucket?" Kim wants to know when we get back to the room, just as Chrissy is putting a wet washcloth against Kim's forehead and with a small smile, carries off the evidence of Kim's miserable state. Leaving Kerry to sit with her, I follow Chrissy down the hall.
"Should I be worried about that? I mean, she's been sick quite a lot, and from what I understand it doesn't happen to everyone the way it used to."
"Nah, it may not be the standard anymore, but it's still quite common. She just seems to have a particularly queasy stomach. We've given her something for the nausea every time, it just doesn't seem to help her as much as we'd like it to," she says with a smile. "I'm gonna miss her."
"I'm sure she'll miss you too." I give her shoulder a squeeze, grateful for the great care she's given Kim and return to the room.
-
Turning the truck in the direction of Cortez, I glance over at Kim. She’s looking out the window with a big smile on her face, despite the bucket wedged between her knees. "How are you doing?"
"Great," she declares, "and if it weren't for the miserable state of my body, I'd say perfect. But my headspace is fabulous, despite what my intermittent puking may suggest."
"Good," I approve as I quickly run the backs of my fingers over her cheek before turning my attention back on the road. "I bet a 'fabulous headspace' will outlast an upset stomach any day."
Deciding to test the good mood she's in, I broach the topic of Kerry and my conversation earlier. No time like the present. "So I asked you this morning what you were thinking about so hard, but I never did get an answer—what's on your mind?" I feel her eyes assessing me as her hands fiddle with the handle of the bucket.
"Just...you know? Stuff. I mean, we've been kind of shielded from the outside world this past while and I just don't know where to go from here." Her voice sounds uncertain and although she hasn't specifically said so, I have a pretty good feeling she's referring to us and not just speaking in general terms.
"From here we go home. Your home, if you'll have me, or I'll just kidnap you to my apartment. We'll start each day with a plan. Small ones at first, but bigger ones when you're ready. As long as each day is started with you in my arms, there's nothing we can't accomplish."
The silence beside me is a little disconcerting, so when I spot a wide section of shoulder, I pull the car off the road and face her. "Am I going too fast for you?"
Her snort and chuckle are a relief when she has tears running down her cheeks. "To
o fast? No. I just freak out when I find how deep you are able to get into my head." She grabs the tissues I hand her, wipes her face and blows her nose. "I'll have you," she says simply. "And I'd love to make plans with you, every day." She leans in, but before she reached my lips, her body redirects itself over the bucket, heaving helplessly.
Bucket emptied at the side of the road and Kim cleaned up, we're back on the road when she suddenly starts laughing. "That was the height of romance, back there," she says with a hiccup.
"I don't do romance," I tell her. "I just say it like it is."
She tries to put on a straight face, failing miserably.
"Well, honey, if that's the case, then judging from your words and actions, you were born a poet. All that's missing is the poofy-sleeved shirt and the feathered cap."
The growl that visual elicits from me is a trigger for Kim to start chuckling again. And as I turn down the road with Kim's little cottage at the end, and big gangly dog likely waiting impatiently, I feel light and completely happy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"I have been to the end of the earth,
I have been to the end of the waters,
I have been to the end of the sky,
I have been to the end of the mountains,
I have found none that are not my friends."
~ Navajo
Kim
"What are these?"
I hold up a collection of turbans tied in complicated knots and a stack of cotton beanies in every color of the rainbow. Arlene snorts and Emma throws her a dirty look, but as usual, Arlene is decidedly unimpressed.
"Woman can't sit still," she starts, "so for lack of any grandbabies to traumatize for life with her creations, she's focused her 'crafting' on you."
We've just been back here a day and the first night in my own bed, but this time with Mal beside me was the best night I ever had. Even if all we did was spoon, since I wasn't feeling all that frisky. Yet. Caleb and Katie popped in quickly last night to welcome me home, but stayed only the length of a cup of coffee. Apparently Arlene had intended to sit on the doorstep until she could see us coming around the corner, but Seb put his foot down and threatened to lock her out if she even tried. As usual, Arlene bends to no one, except to Seb. Albeit grudgingly.